Oxenfree

Behind the Burning Hills: a Very Cheeki Post-Apocalypse RP IntChk

Oh, I'm excited. Nobody does grimness and biterness like the Celtic folks.

Behind the Burning Hills: a Very Cheeki Post-Apocalypse RP IntChk

Excellent! Funny you mention it, I actually was going to recycle an old, old character, but then I had a flash of inspiration for a new one that I'm much more interested in. So... we're all good then!

Chloe the Doctor

Chloe Fitzgerald

• 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬(𝐞𝐬):
  
  • Fitzgerald, Chloe.
  • The Doctor, Doc
  • That Paddy Bitch
• 𝐀𝐠𝐞:
  
  • 28
• 𝐒𝐞𝐱:
  
  • Female
• 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:
  
  • Chloe is a girl of excellent manners and loose morals. She’s unfailingly polite to almost everyone she meets, be they patients, passersby or someone she’s in the midst of disemboweling. In the midst of all the death and madness the zone has to offer, she does her best to remain a professional – she’s never friendly, but soft-spoken, authoritative, and sometimes stern. Ethically, she lives on a the ‘I did what I had to’ system – she’s not fond of violence, but if a bandit needs to be brutally murdered and left on the road as a warning to others, well…
• 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲:
  
  • Chloe was born in Dublin, Ireland, to a family of criminals and gangsters – violence was a childhood companion, and her cadre of older brothers made sure she learned how to defend herself practically before she learned how to read. For a long time she hoped to use her brains to escape from the violent life she was born into, graduating from medical school and finally being employed at a city hospital – unfortunately, financial woes soon drew her back into a life of crime, and she became one of the most well-known mob doctors in Ireland.
    The problem, of course, with being a well-known mob doctor is that sooner or later, the wrong person is going to find out about you. A successful sting operation brought her family’s criminal empire low, and before long someone squealed on her. Chloe was exposed, disgraced and on the run, and her few remaining connections only barely managed to smuggle her somewhere she could still earn a living.
    Everyone needs a doctor, and those in the Zone are no exception. For the past three years Chloe has traveled through the zone, offering her services to anyone willing to pay her – every camp or trading outpost or bandit fortress she comes to has some idiot in need of stitching up, and medical professionals are (unsurprisingly) rare in those kinds of hellholes. Most people who know of ‘The Doctor’ are glad to see her – even a few of the bandit groups know she’s more good to them alive than dead. Thus far she’s managed to survive through a combination of luck, brutality and the protection of a few powerful groups, but heaven knows those’ll only get you so far in a place filled with maniacs.
• 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬:
  
  • AK-47 Assault Rifle
  • 9mm Makarov Pistol
  • Machete

Behind the Burning Hills: a Very Cheeki Post-Apocalypse RP IntChk

Is is not too late to join? I have just the character I want to use for this, if possible.

Of Mice and Men and Zombies

Interested!

Kingsglaive {Filled}

As bored as he was with picking through the dressers of servants, Gideon perked up when he heard Nero's voice. Finally, it seemed like something interesting was going to happen. With more speed than haste, he set off towards the Commander's location, only occasionally checking that Blair was still behind him.

Finally, Gideon threw open the bizarrely rustic door and strode confidently into the room. "Carrahy here, what had you got for.... oh, holy shit." That was a Behemoth. Ivalice had a Behemoth in their basement. Why did Ivalice have a Behemoth in their basement?

His mouth dry, images of a war with this monster sprang unbidden into Gideon's mind. He pictured it striding all across Algareth, wrecking skyscrapers and filling the sky with ash. He saw it swatting the airships of Teirland out of the sky like flies. He saw whole armies break before it, the war over before it began. And for once in his life, though he'd never admit it, Gideon was frightened.

"What do we..." he whispered, then swallowed and spoke in a normal pitch, "What do we do?"

The Pickers

That sounds good to me. Sorry I've been gone, finals hit me like a sack of bricks.

I'd say, if the plan is to go in a whole new direction, just carry on without me until the attack happens - I'll still be a bit busy for a day or two, so there's no point in waiting for me to talk about a plan that's going to be moot shortly.

Kingsglaive {Filled}

I am still here I! I am not dead! Finals week has been unexpectedly brutal, but it's nearly over. I'll have a post up either late today or tomorrow.

Kingsglaive {Filled}

@icmasticc Honestly, I think we might have gotten a sequel to Bloodborne: it's called Dark Souls 3. Like, the story is all Dark Souls, but with the reduced emphasis on armor stats, the stance system, the removal of poise, the gutting of magic, the emphasis on fast combat and stunlocking as well as all the gothic architecture and cathedrals and stuff... it's pretty Bloodborney, in good and bad ways.

Kingsglaive {Filled}

I'm with you, @FantasyChic. I'm crap at shooters - the closest I really get to that genre is stuff like Bioshock.

Incidentally, I think I'm almost done with Dark Souls 3. It's been a wild, brutal ride.

The Pickers

Grick stayed off to the side of the Captain as she rattled off their jobs and roles. Once again she was insistent on a member of the crew harming her so as to give the illusion of a rough mutiny; Grick's tendrils twitched uncomfortably at the thought. He would be a good fit for that duty, he knew - he had long since discovered that most kinds of aliens were extraordinarily... breakable, by the standards of the Children. Even so, he could not have brought himself to do it himself. He hated to harm anyone, especially a friend.

To that end, he lumbered over to the ship's Navigator, Niseli. The feline alien was regarding her other partner, Paxyntrotka, with an... interesting gaze. She had just concluded another vicious tirade at the captain's expense, and so he crouched slightly as he approached her, a hesitant tone in his voice. "Vaunted Navigator," he began, using the traditional title of any child capable of flying a pod ship, "I believe I have been assigned to help you find us a new ship. I hope you will not object to my accompanying you and Paxyntrotka for your first task - I could give off the appearance of..." he struggled a moment for the alien term he was looking for, "hired muscle? After your contact is found, we could look for a ship. I... well, I could be of some use in its maintenance."

Engine repair. Would that be his new job? He was likely qualified, but... the water in the pod ship was boiling outside his suit. Tred'elor, one of the control deck personnel, came lurching at him through the bubbles and the steam, her flesh melting in her bone casing. She screamed. He had done this.

The Child shuddered, shook away the memory, and drew a tendril along his back in a gesture to ward off evil. "In any case, Navigator, I am at your service."